


A Spark In The Night

by thealphagate_archivist



Category: Stargate SG-1
Genre: M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-03-25
Updated: 2006-03-25
Packaged: 2019-02-02 08:25:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,353
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12723069
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thealphagate_archivist/pseuds/thealphagate_archivist
Summary: Is it just a spark in the night, or something more?





	A Spark In The Night

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the archivists: this story was originally archived at [The Alpha Gate](https://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Alpha_Gate), a Stargate SG-1 archive, which began migration to the AO3 in 2017 when its hosting software, eFiction, was no longer receiving support. To preserve the archive, we began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2017. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are this creator and it hasn't transferred to your AO3 account, please contact us using the e-mail address on [The Alpha Gate collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/thealphagate).

"Well, that was interesting."

Paul glanced up from the papers he was going through in his open briefcase. "Daniel. I thought you'd be with the rest of SG-1."

"Janet's checking Teal'c over now," the archaeologist told him. "She shooed us away. Jack and Sam are planning to whisk him off-base for the night -- we're all going out to dinner once Janet gives him the go-ahead."

"Ah." Paul looked back down at the reports he was going to have to hand in about the Russian negotiations, trying to think of something to say. Apart from work, there wasn't heaps for them to talk about -- as they'd discovered on the trip across the Atlantic ocean to Moscow. Daniel's next words jerked his head up.

"I was thinking you might like to come along?"

He blinked at the slim man standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets. "I might like...?"

"Yeah, I ran it by Jack and Sam, and they were fine about it. Sam said it would be a shame to stick you in a hotel room all night, and Jack asked if the Pentagon would be willing to foot the bill."

Paul shut the briefcase, as a smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. "I think it might look a bit suspicious if my bill is enough for five people..."

"Oh, he was kidding," Daniel waved a hand to indicate Jack's sense of humour. "But they don't mind you coming along...if you don't have anything else to do, of course."

He wanted to. Daniel had no idea how much Paul would like to accept the offer. Except that SG-1 had just gotten Teal'c back after he got stuck in the Stargate's 'memory', and they'd want some time together -- just the four of them, no intruders.

"Thanks for the invite, but I don't think that's a good idea...you'll want to spend the time with your team..."

"Okay. If you change your mind in the next half-hour, call me on my cell." Walking up to the table, Daniel took up a pencil and scribbled a number down on one of the pads. "Okay?" He pushed the paper towards Davis, and arched his brows in question.

"Okay."

The smile was lightning fast and brilliant. "Thanks for the help in Russia, too."

"Even if we're only doing this for the good old US of A?" Paul threw Daniel's words back to him and waited to see what kind of response he got.

"Even if." A hand was held out, and after a moment, Paul shook it firmly.

"Thanks, Dr. Jackson."

Daniel grinned and was gone, clattering down the metal stairs to the control room.

Paul looked down at the paper on the table.

He wished he could have accepted.

With a faint, self-mocking smile, Paul Davis folded the sheet of paper up and tucked it into his briefcase. Next time he was in the Springs for a meeting, he might call Daniel up.

Maybe.

"Not gone yet, Major?"

Paul inclined his head towards General Hammond as he came in the door. "Just on my way out, sir. Teal'c's okay?" He'd already heard the news from Daniel of course, but he was fairly sure that Hammond had been to check on his man in the infirmary -- that was the kind of commander Major General George Hammond was.

"Dr. Fraiser is checking him over, but he seemed none the worse for having been stuck in the Stargate memory all that time." Hammond shook his head. "The things you see in his place..."

"It keeps life interesting."

Hammond snorted, "I think it's been said that the phrase 'May your life be interesting' is considered a curse among various cultures. Dr. Jackson would probably know which ones."

Yeah, Daniel would know.

The General nodded at him. "Dr. Jackson tells me you did some good work today."

"It was Dr. Jackson more than myself."

"Correct me if I'm wrong, Major, but the two of you were sent to Russia to acquire the use of their Stargate."

"Dr. Jackson was the one who pushed for the DHD, sir." Daniel deserved his due. "He was the one who managed to persuade Chekov to loan us the DHD. All I managed to do was alienate the Russians." That the alienation went both ways was not something General Hammond needed to know.

"If your 'alienating' them gets us the kinds of concessions we got today, then by all means, Major, keep it up." Hammond's smile was small and warm. A commander who took pride in his people and who could be trusted to protect his people. Rather like O'Neill. Rather like Daniel, although in a non-military sense. "I'd better not keep you, Major. Do you return to DC tonight?"

"No. After flying some twenty thousand miles in the last seventy-two hours, I persuaded the Pentagon to put me up for the night."

"The Marriott Hotel? Have a good night, then, Major. And good work, son."

"Thank you, sir."

Hammond went into his office, and Paul took the stairs through the control room and out to the elevators.

The corridors were fairly empty. The lower levels of the base had been cleared of personnel while they performed the actions which would free Teal'c from the Stargate memory buffer, and while basic personnel had returned to their stations afterwards, it was early evening and most people had gone home for the night. The exceptions were the personnel stationed on the base for the night shift.

The sole occupant of the elevator, Paul punched in the button for level sixteen. At level nineteen, the elevator stopped and the door opened to show Major Sam Carter, dressed in slightly-rumpled civvies with a duffle bag over her shoulder.

"Major," he greeted her.

"Major," she replied with a faint smile. The doors closed behind her. "Good work with the Russians."

"It wasn't all that much, actually. They responded better to Dr. Jackson than they did to me."

The corners of her mouth tipped up in a small smile, "Daniel gave the impression that the defining of terms and conditions was mostly your doing."

Paul tried to find a tactful way of saying that the terms and conditions he'd defined had ended up being unacceptable to the Russians and settled for saying: "They preferred Daniel's suggestions."

"Funnily enough, most people do." One side of her mouth tugged upwards as she glanced at him "Thanks, Paul."

"For what? Doing my job?"

"For helping out. Daniel said he was lost a couple of times and you stepped in to haul him out of hot water during the negotiations."

Paul snorted, "He found the solution, though."

"And I'm sure you were just there to look pretty," Sam said with notable sarcasm. "Well, thanks for doing it -- for getting us the DHD, and helping us get Teal'c back." Paul noted she ignored her considerable contribution to the resolution. Her brows arched as she looked at him. "So did Daniel ask you to come to dinner?"

"Uh...yeah...but..."

"But you're going to hole yourself up in your hotel room for the night? Even I know better than to try that when both the Colonel and Daniel get on my case."

The door opened at level sixteen and they got out and pressed the button waiting for the next elevator. "You just got Teal'c back, Major, I'd just be an intruder..."

"You'd just be someone who helped us get Teal'c back," she pointed out with calm logic. "That makes you more than welcome in our books." The plural was probably unconscious -- she was so used to referring to herself and her team as a group that it came as second nature. "Look, you don't have to join whatever celebrations Colonel O'Neill is planning afterwards -- just dinner. Easy."

He wanted to. He really did.

He waited until they were in the second elevator with a couple of other personnel coming off-duty before he answered, keeping his voice low.

"Are you sure?"

"Would we have offered if we weren't?"

"You might be being polite." Politeness was something Paul knew a lot about after working for the last nine years in DC.

"I might be," she conceded. "But Colonel O'Neill wouldn't make the offer out of politeness, and neither would Daniel. Look, I'll make it even easier -- I'll pick you up from the hotel and drop you back afterwards." Her smile was faintly impish, and Paul had a moment to wonder at the changes the years had wrought in her. "It also means you won't renege on us."

Conflicting emotions warred within him. "Okay. But only if you're sure."

"We're sure." She spoke with a confidence Paul envied. He'd known her distantly while she worked at the Pentagon -- another scientific type. From everything he'd seen, transferral to the SGC had developed her, given her self-confidence in ways Paul couldn't possibly imagine, and forged friendships with people who appreciated her skills and her personality.

People like Dr. Daniel Jackson.

Paul took a deep breath and tried not to feel like he was taking a leap into dark waters, "All right, then."

The smile remained, "That wasn't so hard, now, was it?"

Having taken the plunge, it was easy enough to smile back at her. "You're spending too much time around O'Neill, Major."

She didn't appear to be fazed by the prospect, the smile remained on her face all the way up to the surface.

As the doors rolled back and the other people in the elevator got out, Sam glanced over at him. "I'll pick you up at 1830. You're at the Marriott, right?"

"Yeah. 1830. I'll keep an eye out for you from the lobby."

"Great!" She flashed him another smile, and made for the sign-out checkpoint at the gate.

* * *

"Do you do this often?" Paul asked Daniel, leaning back against the ledge where their drinks were perched.

"Not usually. Maybe...once a month. We see each other so often, that there are times when all we want to do is *not* see each other for a few days." Daniel took a swig from his Corona. "But it's nice to hang out once in a while." He snorted as Sam sunk another two balls -- much to the dismay of her opponent. "And Sam enjoys sharking the tables."

"They used to issue advice to newcomers to the Pentagon," Paul recalled with a faint smile. "Don't play pool against Captain Carter."

"Another beer, Davis?" Jack got up from his stool on the other side of the table where he and Teal'c had been in some in-depth discussion about the value of revenge.

"I'm nearly finished," Daniel interjected, holding up his beer.

"Yeah, but you've already had your quota," Jack said dryly. "It's soda for you, Daniel."

Paul frowned, "Daniel's only had one."

"And that's his quota," Jack responded in a tone that brooked no argument. "Hey Carter, want another drink?"

"Diet coke again, sir."

In unison, Jack and Daniel chorused, "You like the taste." It was evidently an old joke.

She grinned, and jostled her way amidst the patrons of the bar to take a shot at another ball. The men assembled around the bar had a tendency to watch Sam rather than the ball, but her gaze remained focused on the white ball and the red one she had to sink. Even as she hit the white, Paul knew that the shot wouldn't make it. The red rebounded off the cushion and rolled to the other end of the table.

"Bad luck," Daniel offered as she stepped aside to let her opponent take the next shot.

A good-natured grimace was on her face as she hopped onto the chair Jack had vacated. "I was hoping for a four-ball run..."

Daniel drank the last of his beer and laid the bottle down before casually patting her shoulder. "Next turn."

Sam grinned as she finished off her drink. She didn't seem bothered by the contact, and Paul felt a brief flash of resentment towards her, then felt stupid for that emotion. He doubted it was intimate -- just two people who were comfortable in each other's personal space.

But the thought that it *might* be personal made him uncomfortable in all kinds of ways.

"So, Teal'c, did you and the Colonel manage to sort out when and if revenge was acceptable?"

"We did, Major Carter. O'Neill is of the opinion that revenge may be a national prerogative when injustice has been done to a country."

"So...what?" Daniel objected, "We should just leave situations like the Middle East, or the Albanian war? Let them bathe themselves in blood for a revenge which is so many thousands of years old they can hardly remember what started it?"

Sam's opponent had missed the coloured billiard, leaving her a free shot. She got up to take it, ducking around Jack's arm with lithe neatness.

"You know, Daniel," Jack said as he set four bottles of beer and a can of soda down on the table, "This is why we never take you places. It turns into an ideological dispute every time."

"I wasn't the one discussing the politics of revenge with Teal'c," came the inexorable reply.

"No. You were the one discussing a history of the Cold War with Davis -- geeze, the only one out of the four of us actually taking the night off work is Carter!"

There was a groan from behind them as Sam jauntily sunk the black; and shook her opponent's hand. From the words which were being exchanged, the guy was also angling for a date -- and was politely but decidedly refused. However, instead of issuing a new challenge, Sam flipped the pool cue onto the table to show she was finished for the night, and came over to where her friends were sitting.

She dragged a seat over and took a large gulp of her diet soda. "I'm all pooled out."

"Shark."

"If you say so, sir. What's being discussed?"

"I thought I wasn't allowed another beer?" Daniel inquired, holding up a bottle of Corona.

"It's a celebration. I decided you were entitled to another one."

"Oh, gee, *thanks*, Jack."

"Think nothing of it, Daniel." Jack replied glibly, before he turned to Carter and answered her original question: "Oh, nothing much. The fact that we have no lives so we're forced to resort to hanging around with work colleagues."

"Jack was pointing out that you were the only one having fun."

"I didn't know you knew how to have fun, Carter."

"There's a lot about me you don't know, sir. Like what my views on personal revenge are."

"So tell us."

"Oh, no. I'd much rather hear the debate rage between you and Daniel, sir."

"The entertainment value is priceless?" Daniel questioned.

She just smiled. "So, the Middle East crisis and the Kosovo war?"

"Carter!"

"I also am curious, O'Neill."

Jack's shoulders slumped and he looked over at Paul. "You see what I have to put up with?"

"It's a fair bargain, Jack," Daniel told him. "We have to put up with you."

"Just talk, Daniel." Jack rolled his eyes at Sam, who smiled into her cola.

As Daniel began his treatise on the origins and continuances of the Arab-Israeli dispute, Paul settled himself down and watched the young archaeologist. Idealistic, yes. Stubborn, yes. Diplomatic...well, when he put his mind to it. Reminded of his own very distinct and stiff-backed stance with the Russians less than twenty-four hours ago, Paul sighed.

The issues of the United States' military might and the politics of saving face which had confronted him had not confronted Daniel -- and Paul almost envied him that simplicity of view. It didn't make it right, the situation was much more complex than the manner in which Daniel had portrayed it, but it did make things a lot easier for Daniel anyway. They needed the DHD -- an immediate concern -- and if they could buy it out from the Russians, then that would eliminate the future need for complex negotiations with the Russians.

If only life was that easy.

"...in the end, it doesn't matter what the war is for. That's all they know, and all they're capable of..."

Briefly, Paul wondered if that was the way of the Goa'uld. All they knew was domination, and it was all they were capable of. Of course, they did it very well...

"Daniel, you can't ignore the fact that our interference..."

"Jack, we have no understanding of what motivates them..."

"We're all human..."

"But that doesn't mean that the same things drive us! We've lived in a secure country for so long that we've forgotten what war really feels like!"

"Daniel, you've never known what war really feels like!" Jack said shortly. "Flying planes into office buildings is not war -- it's...it's just shit."

As the two men argued, Paul watched Teal'c and Sam's eyes flicker from one face to the other. There was a slight smile on the Major's lips as she regarded her team-mates, and Teal'c similarly appeared to be amused by the passion with which the two men disagreed.

Abruptly, Paul felt like the outsider. Which he was. It was evident from the familiar and comfortable way that O'Neill and Daniel argued their respective positions that this kind of debate was frequent between them. Like the way Paul's brother still tended to snap at Paul when he went back to the little town in Nebraska where he'd grown up. Often as not, if Paul said white, then James would say black just to be contrary -- or to have something to talk about.

Abruptly he looked over to find Sam's gaze on him, the large eyes penetrating. He gave her a half smile and took another swig of beer to break her concentration on him. It was just the eyes that gave the impression she saw into your soul, nothing more. Daniel was the one with the intuition...but Sam Carter was reputedly very good at putting puzzle pieces together.

"...do you think, Paul?"

The question caught him unexpectedly and he nearly choked on his beer. "I...what?" He managed, his hand over his mouth so if he dribbled, it wouldn't be obvious. "Sorry...lost track..." Some of the beer had gone down the wrong way, and the tickle in his throat made him cough.

"Now look what you've done to him!" O'Neill said.

Someone thumped him firmly on the back, helping him breathe. After a few choking seconds, he realised it was Daniel -- and he still had his hand on Paul's shoulder as he regarded Paul with concern. "You okay?"

"Yeah," The worry in the blue eyes and the heat in the hand on his shoulder discomforted him -- and warmed him -- for a moment. Paul rubbed the back of his hand over his mouth to make sure he didn't still have beer on his face. "Just not expecting... What was the question?"

"Doesn't matter anymore," O'Neill dismissed. "Daniel was looking for support where he wasn't gonna be getting any."

Daniel glared at Jack, taking his hand off Paul's shoulder. Then he removed his glasses and began polishing them on his shirt. "You military types. All as bad as each other." The complaint was half-hearted, without irritation. From the quick flash in O'Neill's eyes, Paul was certain there had been other times when the complaint had possessed all the considerable fervour Daniel was capable of -- and it had stung his team-mates. It was also acknowledged that they knew what he thought and they accepted it -- just as Daniel knew what they thought and he accepted it...sometimes.

Jack snorted: "You're outnumbered three to one, Daniel. Four, if you count Teal'c."

"Well," Sam interrupted, "He'll be outnumbered only by two to one in a minute." She stood up, stretching a little. "I'm heading home -- need some sleeeeeep..." One hand moved swiftly to cover her yawn as she glanced over at him. "Did you want a lift back to the hotel, Paul?"

He didn't really want to leave, but when your ride was about to leave... "If it's not too much trouble."

"If you want to stay out, I'll get you back to the hotel," Daniel offered. His team-mates all looked at him. "What?"

"I don't know if you're fit to drive, Daniel," Sam was the one to voice what they were all thinking.

"I've had two beers, Sam..."

"And that's enough to have you *acting* drunk whether or not your blood alcohol is over the limit. And I really don't like your chances if you ran into a patrol tonight..." 

"Thanks for the vote of confidence, Jack."

"Is it not a vote of knowledge, Daniel Jackson?" Teal'c inquired. "Your inability to hold your alcohol is well-known."

"And thank you, too, Teal'c!"

"I can take a taxi," Paul assured her.

She smiled, "Okay."

"Hold up, Carter," Jack stood up, "Could you drop me off at my place? I'm developing a headache." He flashed a grin, "I think I'm getting old."

"You are not as old as I, O'Neill. You are only half my age."

"That's a totally different thing, Teal'c. Carter?" 

Sam shrugged and smiled, indicating acceptance either way. "Okay, sir." Jack indicated his still half-full glass and began finishing it, so she waited. Her gaze fell on Paul and her expression turned laughingly quizzical: "So was dinner so bad after all, Major?"

He smiled, "Thanks for re-issuing the invite, Sam."

"You're welcome." There was a brief gleam in her eyes before she turned to Jack. "Ready to go, sir?"

"You're the driver, Carter."

"Night, guys."

They left, with the Colonel glancing over his shoulder at the party of three left at the table and muttering something over Sam's shoulder as he guided her with one hand hovering at the small of her back. Paul could guess what Jack was saying -- he'd caught the very direct and very penetrating gaze of the leader of SG-1 several times during the night. Jack O'Neill might play dumb for the benefit of anyone he wished to underestimate him, but there were some things which didn't get past him. Anything to do with his team for starters.

Which included Daniel Jackson.

Paul wondered if he was really that obvious. He'd always admired the archaeologist -- it took a certain stubborn tenacity to continue to believe in the rightness of your own opinion when absolutely everyone else thought you were a nutter -- but he'd been discreet about it, or so he thought. Paul had never been the type to wear his heart on his sleeve.

He really hoped that this time it wasn't obvious that he was interested in Daniel.

Because if his interest wasn't returned, if Daniel wasn't like that...

He just wanted to get to know the man better. This wasn't love everlasting, just...attraction. Possibly mutual. Probably not.

It might just be that SG-1 was preternaturally sensitive about each other -- a kind of sixth sense which permeated their relationships in the team. They'd been working together for five years, in the kind of environment where they had to depend on each other for both their work and their lives. You tended to learn a few small nuances of personality in that time and under those circumstances.

A slightly uncomfortable silence followed, until Teal'c made an inquiry regarding the situation with the Russians. It seemed that both Daniel and Jack had given Teal'c enough information about the negotiations to pique the curiosity of the Jaffa. Paul listened as Daniel filled his team-mate in on the discussion which had taken place, and watched as the dark eyes flickered from Daniel's earnest expression to Paul's own face.

Once again, Paul had the disconcerting feeling that he was being measured up by Daniel's team-mate. He took another slug of his beer and wondered if he shouldn't have left with Sam earlier.

*But you didn't, did you? So the 'should have's are pointless.*

"...General Chekov was...rather unhappy about the state of the DHD," Daniel was saying. "But he's going to get his technology -- and McKay into the bargain."

"Major Carter did not appear to have much fondness for McKay," Teal'c commented. "She was most glad to see the last of him."

"I was glad to see the last of both him and Simmons," responded Daniel. "Hopefully, they don't come back."

"Well, Colonel Simmons is looking at imprisonment on several counts -- including blackmail," Paul pointed out, thinking of the snidely self-satisfied expression of the NID officer the last time he'd arrived at the Pentagon for the monthly briefing on the activities of the SGC.

Paul had taken a grim pleasure in blocking the Colonel as subtly as he dared -- and it still hadn't been enough in his opinion. The men and women of the SGC lived with a perpetual cloud of secrecy around them, straining their relationship with others not privy to that secret. Impossible things were asked of them, and they delivered them on a regular basis.Yet the bureaucrats like Simmons and the power-hungry politicians like Kinsey still shoved for prime position, hoping to gain from the Stargate's discoveries with no thought of anything beyond themselves. The platitudes of 'for the greater good' mouthed by the NID and others like them were empty words. Paul had lived and breathed politics long enough to recognise dangerous ambition when he saw it.

Major Paul Davis had immense respect for the people of the SGC. The time he'd spent working alongside General Hammond had shown him not only the quality of the commander, but the quality of the personnel he commanded. All the personnel of the SGC -- not just SG-1.

"What'll happen to him?"

"Depending on how high up the person was giving the orders, he could get anything from a rap-over-the-knuckles and a quiet placement somewhere else, to trial and imprisonment like Maybourne." Paul suspected that Simmons would get away with a rap over the knuckles, but he didn't say that to either Daniel or Teal'c.

It appeared that Teal'c at least was aware of how things worked in the murky world of politics and power on Earth. Possibly he'd seen such machinations among the Goa'uld who'd served Apophis. "A man such as Colonel Simmons would have his tracks and trail concealed," Teal'c said. "He would have strings available to pull in order to release him from incarceration."

"Cynical," Daniel observed before draining his glass to the bottom.

"But probably true," Paul remarked.

"Cynic."

"There are few people who manage to hold onto their ideals after a few years in the Pentagon, Daniel."

"Sam managed."

"Sam kept out of the politics. She stuck her head down and worked like the blazes after being kicked off the Stargate project by General West." And while Sam Carter wasn't a cynic like Paul Davis, she was very much a pragmatist.

Daniel sighed. "What a mess."

Paul laughed in spite of himself. "Daniel, it's politics. It's *supposed* to be a mess."

A shake of the head was his reply, "I'll take archaeology over politics any day." He drained the contents of his glass and grunted. "And I think I'm beginning to feel the time differential between Moscow and Colorado Springs... Time to go."

They finished their drinks and headed out to the parking lot of the bar. Teal'c's jeep loomed silently beside Daniel's old Saturn, and as they reached the car, Daniel leaned heavily on the hood as he fished in his pockets for his keys.

"Daniel Jackson, I do not believe you are fit to drive."

The jangle of metal on metal indicated that Daniel had found the keys, and with a sigh he looked up. "No, I don't think I am, either, Teal'c."

"Do you require a lift?"

"Nope. Only a chauffeur." 

Paul stared at the keys Daniel was offering him. "Uh...Daniel..."

"You can drive me home, then take the car to the hotel -- it'll be easier if I only have to go halfway across town to pick up the car tomorrow."

A glance at Teal'c showed the Jaffa had his head tilted to one side in query of Paul's hesitation. Okay, then. Paul could do this. Drive Daniel home, then head back to the hotel and snooze for a couple of hours before heading back to DC. Easy.

"Okay," he took the car keys and glanced over at Teal'c. "You'll be okay getting back to the base, Teal'c?"

"Alcohol does not affect my system, Major Davis. I will not encounter any problems."

"'Night, Teal'c. See ya tomorrow, 'kay?"

"Good night, Daniel Jackson, Major Davis." And with another inclination of that dignified head, Teal'c climbed into his jeep and fired up the engine. His gaze met Paul's through the windscreen, and the expression on the dark face indicated that Paul had damn well better get Daniel home in one piece...or else.

Then he drove away. Leaving Paul with Daniel.

Paul unlocked the car, tongue-tied now that it had come down to a peaceful, social moment between them. He could argue his case with the best lawyers, explain the ramifications of a situation in a few choice sentences, navigate unstable political situations with the weight of his government at his back...but he couldn't converse with a man whose interest was linguistics.

As it turned out, he didn't have to. 

The archaeologist was leaning against the hood of his car, head thrown back, staring up at the stars with a haunted expression on his face. He glanced at Paul, then turned his face resolutely back up to the night sky in all its pristine velvet glory. "Have you ever seen the movie 'Men in Black', Paul?" Daniel paused a moment, not really expecting an answer. "The agents stare up into the sky, but they can't see the stars properly because they know all the dangers that lie out there -- and they can't look beyond that. That's us."

Yes, Paul knew. He understood what Daniel was trying to say. In their lines of work, the big picture subsumed the individual. The small things of life became irrelevant in the call to duty. And duty, like a famine, would swallow everything in its reach and there was never any surety that you would receive the minutiae of life back from its appetite.

SG-1 knew that very well, and so did Major Paul Davis.

Paul dropped the keys into his jacket pocket and came to lean against the hood beside Daniel. "Do you think she's watching you from out there?" He didn't need to elaborate on who 'she' was.

Daniel sighed, "Sometimes I wonder." He looked over at Paul, and a half-smile crossed his face, "I'm getting maudlin. This always happens after I have a beer or two. I did it the night I came back from Abydos, too..." 

Paul put one hand out to touch his shoulder. "You okay?" 

A soft snort was his answer, "Yeah. I will be. Mostly." Daniel pulled his glasses off and rubbed at his eyes. "Sometimes it just gets me. Usually after a tiring mission."

There wasn't a lot Paul could say or do. If another member of SG-1 had been there, they would have known what Daniel needed to hear. Sympathy, or a kick in the butt? Someone to listen, or someone to reassure?

"Maybe you'll feel better after a good night's sleep."

Daniel laughed. The sound was unexpected, the music from the bar a distant thumping counterpoint out here in the parking lot. "Cliches, Paul?" He turned his head, a wry smile staining his lips. "Jack would haul your ass out for such a comment."

"Good thing he's not here, then."

Cold fingers brushed his cheek lightly, and Paul turned to look into the eyes of his companion.

Intimacy. Tenderness.

Fear.

There was a challenge in Daniel's expression, blue eyes narrowed as if daring Paul to flinch, bat his hand away, say something -- anything.

Paul held the gaze for a long moment, then turned his head so his lips brushed against the slighly rough skin. Challenge accepted.

Then Daniel nodded, just the slightest movement of his head, and his hand dropped away. "It's been a long time," he said, conversationally, apparently apropos of nothing. "Five years on SG-1. You get used to the...idiosyncrasies of your team." The full mouth pursed a little, "Jack in particular has a *lot* of idiosyncracies." Then he looked back up to the sky and changed the topic, "It would be nice to see the stars as just stars again. No Goa'uld, no threat to Earth, no weird, dangerous galaxy that's out to get us. Just...the night sky and the beauty of it all."

Was there anything Paul could say to that?

No.

As it turned out, he didn't have to.

"I'm sorry about that," Daniel murmured suddenly, standing up. He wobbled a bit, but held up a hand when Paul put a hand out to steady him. "It's okay." He raked his hands through his hair. "I'm not always this...flaky. Honestly." A grimace crossed his face, like an old memory uncomfortably reasserting itself, but he shook it off. "Shall we go?"

Paul started up the car and drove it out of the parking lot in the direction of the hotel. Daniel had intimated that the hotel was on the way to his apartment but he'd need more directions to actually get to Daniel's place.

Or maybe not. A hand touched his leg, resting lightly above the bent knee. Large hands, a little cold -- but it wasn't the temperature which sent a shiver down his spine. Luckily, his brain told him that it probably wasn't a wise thing to lose control of the car, so he kept driving. "Are we going to your place, Daniel?" The question was soft.

"The hotel's closer." And the hand shifted up his thigh, coiling the spring of desire in Paul's loins.

He didn't allow himself to think about what was going to happen, instead, he concentrated on getting them to the hotel. The car was left for the valet to park, and they walked into the hotel, casual as two businessmen coming in from a night on the town. But the mounting pressure in his chest was unavoidable as they stepped into the confines of the lift, and as they stood outside the room while his hands fumbled to get the room keycard out of his pocket. He felt Daniel's fingers at the nape of his neck as the door opened, and their mouths were warm and hungry on each other as the door clicked shut behind them.

* * *

"You look like the cat who's eaten the cream," muttered Daniel from the bed.

A smile touched Paul's lips as he glanced through the mirror at the man propped up on one elbow, the short hair a ruffled mess after the previous night. "And you have a problem with that?"

"Maybe." The sheets were artfully wrapped around Daniel's hips, concealing long muscular thighs...as well as other things. "Maybe I object to being cream." He slid out of the bed, casual about his nakedness where Paul would have grabbed a pillow or put on some briefs. Paul watched as his lover crossed the room, coming to stand behind him.

They were of a height, Daniel being slightly taller, and he rested his chin over Paul's shoulder, turning his face so his mouth brushed Paul's throat in a sensual tickle -- aided by the faint stubble across the planed cheeks. "How is this going to work?"

Paul turned to look into Daniel's eyes. Lazy blue eyes that he'd seen convey many emotions in the last forty-eight hours: anger and pleasure, passionate belief and passionate desire, frustration and satisfaction. "How do you want it to work?" Last night...well, last night had been one of Paul's better encounters for a while. Not only the sex, but the kind of intimacy that came from not having to hide things from your partner.

Daniel glanced down at Paul's chest, then up again. The effect was mildly devastating -- a little-boy look, direct to the soul, piercing as a needle. "Maybe next time you come to the Springs..."

Unspoken was the agreement that this was going to be an intimate, casual relationship. Two friends and colleagues, good companionship and good sex. Paul grinned and leaned forward for a kiss. Daniel Jackson was an incredibly good kisser -- as the marks up and down Paul's body attested. "Sounds good," he murmured through soft, moist lips.

"Can't wait..." There were hands unbuttoning his shirt, moving in ways that were making him think about going back to bed for a little longer... He slid his hands down a naked back to firm buttocks...

The phone shrilled loudly, and he broke away. "Shit..." That was probably the concierge calling to say that his taxi had arrived. He went over and answered the phone, while Daniel fished through his discarded clothing to find his boxers and put them on. It was his taxi and he thanked the concierge and hung up. "Daniel..."

A wry smile crossed the handsome face, "Duty calls."

"Yeah." Paul began shoving his few items and papers into his duffle. "Look, I'll call you when I get to DC, huh?"

"Do you need me to check out?"

"No, you just have to be out of here before the cleaners come." Paul grabbed the last of his bits and pieces and paused, glancing around the room. "Oh, yeah, I forgot..." He brushed his lips past Daniel's mouth and felt the eager response. *I could really get used to this...* "Thanks for the night out, Dr. Jackson."

"You're very welcome, Major Davis." Daniel kissed him again. "You'd better go, or you'll be *late*..."

Paul opened the door, grinning at the civilian's gentle teasing of military accuracy. "Be good, Daniel."

Blue eyes twinkled, "I'm *always* good, Paul."

That brought a blush to his cheeks and a broad smile to his face.

"So I noticed." That made Daniel blush, and with another grin, Paul left. 

As he walked down the hall, he couldn't help smiling at the world.

Last night was good. Very good.

And the ongoing affair with Daniel would be...interesting.

Definitely interesting.


End file.
